


Thomas's Typical Afternoon

by anxiouslyfred



Series: Spooktober 2019 [9]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, haunted dolls, sort of ghost sides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21884089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxiouslyfred/pseuds/anxiouslyfred
Summary: Everyone in Thomas's family has some of their ancestors around them, sort of like ghosts, usually acting as advisers. If only his would do that
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Series: Spooktober 2019 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576468
Kudos: 54





	Thomas's Typical Afternoon

Thomas only sighed and waited for the door handle to return to looking like one, instead of Roman’s face. Perhaps watching a Christmas Carol this early in the year was a bad idea since it likely meant he’d have to wait before entering his house for months now.

It was a weird quirk everyone in his family shared. A few of their ancestors would gather around him as spirits and while most of his family could carry on with theirs as advisers or friends, the ones he had, well, preferred to just be ghosts rather than do anything useful like that.

“Watch your butts” The wail came as Thomas finally entered his home, ignoring the spirit diving through his stomach as he headed to hopefully just get a snack now he could relax after work. Remus had as much of a thing for going through Thomas as his brother did for copying haunting suggestions seen in movies.

Thoughts of a snack went out the window at the jelly stains over the window, finger marks through it saying he better get more. “Damn it Logan. I will spirit proof the cupboards instead. Perhaps the entire kitchen.” Thomas muttered, grabbing a cloth to wipe it all up as the glasses wearing ancestor popped through the counter glaring.

“That would be highly impolite, especially since you’ve already locked me out from the Library.” Logan protested. There were only two of his ancestors he could actually have half decent conversations with, and Logan was meant to be one of them. The issues came from him having two obsessions now he was back: Destroying books that contradicted the world view he insisted was scientifically accurate even though the science now outdated him by 2 centuries and the fruit spreads that tasted just like his grandmothers jam used to do, which generally meant it ended up all over the kitchen if he wanted ‘just a small taste’.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “One, that’s a study and since I’m still doing courses to learn about astronomy as well as the various other sciences, I cannot have someone destroying all my text books every week. Two, you promised you’d keep to the one jar I get for you each month and this is the third you’ve taken when it was meant for me, the actually living person in this house.”

Before Logan could say more he was shoved into the pantry by the ancestor who had died in a fire barging through. “Where’s my Pest! I’ve lost my lovely Pest!” He bemoaned. Thomas still hadn’t been told this ancestor’s name after having them around for years but at least he could tell who was meant. 

“Remus is in the garden probably making butts out of leaves again.” He sighed, too used to the pairs form of haunting. Honestly he did just think of himself as living in a haunted house now. None of the 6 people he had around him actually helped except occasionally for him to let emotions out to if Patton was in the mood.

Thinking of Patton, Thomas went to look for one of the last of his ancestors he hadn’t seen since coming home after finishing cleaning and getting a coffee.

Cupboards being left open and the cushions being gone from his sofa was enough to say where Patton was. Looking into the spare room just had Thomas closing his eyes and praying for peace again. 

He had no clue where the dolls staring from inside the pillow fort had come from but honestly hated that they all moved on their own to stare when he entered. “Pat. I’m sure I’ve told you not to steal dolls about a thousand times. Put them back wherever you found them. Actually, just get out of them so I can put them back wherever you found them. I don’t need anymore traumatised old ladies after last time.”

“But we were being thrown out. Can’t Patty take care of us.” The dolls speaking in unison was eerie even by Thomas’ standards, but his glare at least had the ancestor leaving them with a pout.

“Heya Tommy. Please can I keep them? The old lady next door doesn’t want them at all.” The pleading eyes had gotten around Thomas a few times over the years, but having dolls like that in his home was not going to happen.

“No, but if you move the blanket fort to the couch once more we might be able to have a movie night. What about a Toy Story marathon?” Thomas bargained, already grabbing a bag and gathering the dolls into it, assuming Patton meant they had come from the old lady who lived across the road this time throwing them out.

He got no response past blankets floating over his head. Thank heavens one of his ancestors could be distracted so easily.

As he passed the living room again there was slow music coming from it, and through all the blankets and pillows Patton was now moving Thomas could see Roman had found his other favourite thing to do. Roman was dancing a waltz with Virgil.

At least Thomas knew Virgil as more than an apparition now.


End file.
